


Lovely vibes

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reminiscing, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flower viewing and thinking of past times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovely vibes

At that hour of the day the streets were not bustling but rather quiet, as though they were traversing a sleepy town instead of a metropolis. Night would have already fallen on Tokyo by now, but on this side of the world the sun was making its way through the clouds, dispersing the chilly air from earlier in the morning.

"Some spring," Prussia had said during breakfast, but that was then, and now it was, "See that." He pointed above with his chin, hands tucked inside his pockets. He would be fiddling about, perhaps, tugging at the seams and the odd loose thread within the fabric, childlike even in his restlessness.

"Oh," Japan said. His cell phone's camera framed a patch of baby blue and white, not unlike other early spring skies except for the television tower in the middle of it all, and on the horizon, the cherry trees. A few taps would be enough to compose a brief message to go with the picture, and then a simple tag, #Berlin. Few would guess the full story behind it, but he would remember this exact moment, and the steps they had taken to reach this point in time.

He felt a slight tickle then, a feather-like touch, or rather that of petals brushing his face. Back home the flowers would be blooming around Fukuoka, making their way towards the north.

"Wow. It's just, well, different in winter. It was so different back then. And with the trees we got from you, it's something else entirely." Prussia cleared his throat, and then both of them resumed their walk until they reached a pathway where graffiti walls stood under the shadow of hundreds of cherry blossoms.

Japan tried to see what Prussia saw, the barrier yet in place and splitting the city in two, a nation in two, and on the side that faced eastwards, a plot of barren land stretching for hundreds of meters, stripped from the vibrant color of today.

An ephemeral life devoted to dispel years and years of memories best forgotten, some of which would remain lodged deep within him. What terrible task these modest little flowers had.

When Prussia turned to see him, there was a tinge of color on the white of his eyes, the same soft hue that clung from the branches and gathered around their feet, silent like snow. "What do you know, allergies," he said with a sniffle and a shrug of his shoulders, quickly blinking teardrops away to save face. "They say the ones in Bonn are quite the sight."

Japan stood on tiptoe, resting his hands on Prussia's cheeks. "I like these."

Prussia pursed his mouth to hide the slight tremor on his lips. "They're pretty, aren't they?" he said, and then, "Thank you."

His own lips curved into a heartfelt gesture. "Not at all."

It was such a nice day now that the sun was making its presence known, touching the stones laid along the sidewalk and catching on the windows of each parked car. It also lit Prussia's features, and the ghost of a smile he wore as something foreign, as though he were unsure of what to do about it.

"Did you know," Japan said to keep him from thinking of the past, "what sound do petals make when they fall?"

Prussia shook his head and Japan made a beckoning motion, then propped his hand around his mouth as one would do when the time was ripe to tell a secret. A silver eyebrow rose up in disbelief, but even then, he stooped ever so slightly to listen.

"First, the wind goes like this," Japan said, letting out a puff of air on Prussia's ear.

He was close enough that Japan could graze his lips if he so wished, full of recollection. It would be easy for him to shield his eyes from the limpid blue above them and hear the cicadas singing after the rainfall, for summer had been the season that brought Prussia to his door.

Japan remembered all too well the raindrops clinging to his body, and the pearls of laughter, crystal-clear like tolling bells. Prussia's skin, cold to touch and then hot, the quiver of his shoulders, the low cut of his robe— a sliver of pale flesh under the light of the waning moon, delicate and enticing. His form laid bare before his eyes, the perfection of his outline, the sound of his breathing as he slept next to him.

Such precious memories. So many more to come still.

A smile followed in time, although so far it was small. "And then?"

"And then," Japan said, and taking a flower between his hands, he traced Prussia's profile as though in a caress. "There it is, if you listen closely."

"Do it again," Prussia whispered very low, and closing his eyes, he waited until Japan let the petals caress the wrinkles on his brow and brush sand from between his eyelashes, the raw material dreams were made of. He let them trace a curve around his cheekbone and touch the tip of his nose, painting a full-fledged smile on his lips right at the very end.

"Could you hear it?"

"Yes," Prussia said, and Japan found that when the light shed on him just so, his eyes mirrored the trees on that side of the road, their gentle shade, their aching beauty.


End file.
